“I begin to be marvellously afeard,” replied Zedekiah, in a tremulous voice. “I would the demon were well in the Red Sea.”
But there was, he knew, no hope of the demon absconding, or being transported to the remote locality alluded to, until the horseshoe should be fixed on the kitchen-door; and therefore, trusting that Abigail would not fail to keep a good watch, he proceeded to take the preliminary and foremost step in this great undertaking.
Turning his face towards the back of Abigail, a pace or two in her rear, he lowered his head to a level with her waist; and, drawing one of the hind legs of Dobbin between his own legs, raised it up, with the foot uppermost, so as to view the shoe. Meantime, Abigail, with commendable caution, swung her poker round, on either side, as far as her arm would reach, and this rendered any intrusion of the demon almost an impossibility. But how can mortals, however skilled in charms, expect to be able to cope with demons? The very precaution which, in the simplicity of her nature, Abigail considered inductive to success, and a bar to every demoniacal approach, was destined to be the engine of their overthrow. While the trembling Zedekiah was yet surveying Dobbin’s shoe, preparatory to commencing operations, Abigail, in swinging round the poker, dealt the poor horse a tremendous blow in the ribs, and let the poker rebound from her hand. Dobbin struck out instantly, and, with a spirit which seemed scarcely his own, kicked Zedekiah bodily forward, knocking down both him and Abigail at one and the same time. This done, he gave utterance to a neigh of triumph, and cantered gaily into his stable.
Zedekiah was on his feet in a moment. He had no doubt, from what had passed, that the demon had baffled the precaution of Abigail, and was about to visit them with summary vengeance. His terror was excessive; but it did not blind him to the fact, as he thought it, that his safety lay in flight; and, therefore, on gaining his feet, he made off at his last speed.
He kept on his course till he came to the outer boundary of the front garden, where a gate, which had formerly been protected by a porter’s lodge, but at this time was wholly unguarded, opened into the high-road. Here, as it was some distance from the stable, he ventured to halt, and sought to recover his interrupted breath.
Zedekiah’s mind was not very retentive, and though, on the present occasion, his memory of the demon was kept alive for a time by his terror, he gradually began to recede from this fixed idea, and to fall back on such fancies as, from their giddy and fleeting character, were more natural to his mind, and more consonant with his temper. A few minutes after he had come to a halt, the first cause of his flight, having made no settled impression upon him, had passed from his recollection, and left him to wander at will over the various and disordered images of an unbridled mind. While he was thus engaged, a sprinkle of rain fell around, and this—so easy is it always to call the imagination to its leading theme—reminded him that he had an interest in the weather for the passing day, as it was to witness the celebration of Cummer Griffin’s funeral. His countenance, which hitherto had been sad and gloomy, brightened as the rain increased, and, after a while, he gave utterance to his feelings in an old distich:—
“Happy is the bridal that glistens in the sun,
And blessed is the corpse that the rain rains on.”
“Whose burying comes off to-day?” asked a voice behind him, apparently speaking through the gate.
Zedekiah, with the view of facing the quarter from which he might expect any danger, had his back to the gate, and his face turned in the direction of the stable; but on being thus accosted, he altered his position, and, with fear and trembling, turned his face round to the gate. His fear, however, was not of long continuance; for, on effecting this evolution, he perceived that the individual who had accosted him was no more than a mortal man, and one, moreover, whom he well knew.
“Old Cummer Griffin’s, Master Gray,” he answered.